


Portrait of an Apology

by Caedmon



Series: Amelioration in Budapest [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Apologies, Clint Feels, F/M, Feels, Friends to Lovers, Natasha Feels, Schmoop, Slow Burn, feels feels everywhere, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2104425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint visits Natasha to deliver his apology...and ends up spilling his guts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Portrait of an Apology

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, this chapter and the next are straight-up romance novel worthy. I can't even. I don't know if I'm proud or ashamed right now. The schmoop is strong for the next little while. Just hang in there, k? 
> 
> This entire series was almost called "Portrait of an Apology", but I decided I wanted to do more than just an apology...I wanted to be able to branch out. 
> 
> Also, I edited this with a headache, so I apologize for any errors.

Natasha opened the door as Clint reached the tiny porch. He smiled brilliantly at her from behind the big bouquet, noting her frozen expression and stifling a stab of fear because of it. _Chill, Barton. Nobody has ever brought her flowers before that she hasn’t been ordered to kill._ The thought wasn’t particularly reassuring.

Clint stopped at the threshold where Natasha stood just inside the door. Still smiling, he held the yellow bouquet out to her. “I, um, I brought these for you.” She looked down at them, saying nothing. “They’re yellow, your favorite. I thought of you when I saw them. Thought you might like them.”

Natasha looked up from the flowers to his smiling face, puzzled. “How did you know yellow is my favorite color?”

Clint’s forehead crinkled. “You’ve been my best friend for years, Nat. How could I not know?”

She looked even more confused. “But I…” her face cleared. She sounded sad as she said, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Come on in, I’ve got coffee brewing.”

Clint’s heart sank when she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He reached out and gently laid a hand on her arm as she turned away. “Natasha?” She didn’t shake him off or turn around. “If it’s hurting you too much for me to be here, I’ll go. I don’t ever want to hurt you, and that’s the entire point of me being here. That’s all I want to explain to you today. If me being here is too much, just say so. But I’d like to stay.”

She didn’t turn, she just kept her eyes on a spot on the ground a few feet in front of her. She kept her eyes there when she answered him. “No, whatever you have in the box smells good. It would be a shame to waste it. Plus, I have this coffee.” Natasha looked at him. “You should stay for a while.”

oOo

Clint carried the conversation - which was more aptly called a monologue - while they ate the breakfast pastries and drank coffee. He made no mention of the special coffee she’d gotten him, although she saw a little raise to his brow when he took the first sip. Clint kept the conversation topics light and away from the issues he and Natasha were both dreading. She wasn’t sure why he did that, but she wasn’t displeased. He was there, but she still wasn’t ready to see him. 

Natasha kept her eyes away from his face and especially his eyes as much as possible. She had wondered what she would feel if they got the chance to sit down and talk. She had fantasized about this. She’d thought about raging at him, ignoring him, spilling her pain at him. But she’d never thought she’d sit in his presence and feel this overwhelming jumble of emotions - mostly longing and sadness. Natasha didn’t dare look him in the eyes, because she’d surely fall into them and never be able to climb out.

She hated herself for this weakness. She despised that no matter the fact that she could disable ships and planes and take down trucks full of men single-handedly, this one man had the power to bring her to her knees. Natasha knew that for her own mental health, she should kick him out, but the sound of his voice was so soothing to her, almost musical - 

“Nat?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I got lost in my thoughts for a few minutes, I guess.”

The line between Clint’s brows became more pronounced and his frown deepened. He leaned forward, pulling her hand off of her coffee mug and taking it into both of his. She watched his every movement, noting the roughness of his fingers. Years of archery practice had created calluses that were oddly comforting to her…

“Tasha, I meant what I said. If this is too painful, I’ll go. I’d rather die than hurt you again.”

His left thumb traced a circle on her wrist and she examined his thumbnail closely, noting the ridges and the smooth, curved end. Did he mean that? Those were the kinds of things someone said to a romantic partner. She absolutely could not allow herself to hope that he thought about her that way for even one second. _Make him leave, Natasha. Make him leave before he destroys you again._

“Let’s go into the living room and sit on the couches to talk. It’s much more comfortable in there.”

oOo

Clint had known Natasha for years, but he had never seen her like this. She was not at all herself - she seemed more than sad; she seemed resigned, almost fearful. He had been prepared for her to be angry. He’d planned for her hatred. But she seemed to be treating him as if he were a painful job she had to do: she wouldn’t look at him. As Clint watched her settle into the corner of a couch, he noted again the look on her face - the resigned sadness - and he cursed himself for the thousandth time. 

How to approach this? How to go about this? He had thought he was prepared for every eventuality, but not this. How should he bring Natasha out? 

“I missed you, Nat.”

“Mmm.” She took a sip of her coffee and put the mug on the table beside her, curling one leg under herself and crossing the other leg over it, curling herself into a ball. Clint recognized the defensiveness of the pose and was almost glad. This he could work with. 

“I really did. I haven’t had any decent time with you since I went to New Mexico to watch over Selvig.”

“That’s been a while.”

“Too long.”

She didn’t say anything, just reached over, lifted her mug, and took a sip. The motion caused the sunlight to catch on the arrow at her throat and Clint confirmed mentally that it really was a little arrow, he hadn’t been imagining things.

“Nat, I -“

“Why are you here, Clint?”

Clint took a deep breath. “I told you why.”

“Okay, let’s say you’re going to reunite our little team. You want me to remember you or whatever -“

“No, not exactly.”

“No?”

“No. Well, yes.” Clint sighed. “I want you to remember me as I was and know me now at the same time. I’m the exact same man I was before, except that my priorities have shifted. Can we get to that part in a bit?”

“Fine. What about you and I? You’re trying to get our little team back together. For the Avengers, right?” 

“Not exactly for the Avengers, no, although we would be an asset to the Avengers. I’m going to be working for Tony, because I owe him a huge debt. You and I work best as a team, and it would be wonderful to have you working with me. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because I want you and I as a team whether you join the Avengers or not.”

Natasha shook her head, frowning. “I’m confused. And no matter what team you wanted me on, did you honestly expect to reunite us with sticky buns and daisies? Do you really think that’s going to heal anything?”

Her words were angry, but there was no heat to them. They sounded sorrowful and Clint heard the threat of tears behind them. 

He said, “I never expected flowers or food to make you forgive me. I never expected one conversation to make everything okay between us.”

Natasha shook her head again. “I don’t think it’s possible for things to ever be like they were between us again. I just don’t.”

Clint sat quietly for a few moments, weighing his next words very carefully. He’d already come extremely close to telling her his feelings and intentions, he didn’t want to scare her away. After a moment of contemplation, he looked up at her. She sat curled into a ball like a ballerina, her legs pale and smooth against the black of her yoga pants. The cut-out neck of her light purple t-shirt was pulled to one side, revealing a bra strap. Her hair was in a messy bun, tendrils of red hair falling around her face and neck, framing her beauty and making her look almost ethereal. Her face was bare of makeup, her green eyes unenhanced and shining brightly. 

This was the way he liked her best - this was the Natasha no one else got to see but him. This was pure, unfiltered Natasha Romanov. He loved her always, but he loved her most in quiet moments like these. When he was alone in his mind, being tortured, he hadn’t pulled up memories of her in glamorous cocktail dresses in elegant coifs dripping with jewels to comfort himself. He had imagined her just like this, sitting on his couch, eating popcorn with him as they watched a movie. Quiet, happy moments together. All he wanted from life was an endless supply of unguarded, unfiltered Natasha. His Natasha, the Natasha no one else knew but him.

He wanted his Natasha.

“No, I think you’re right. I don’t think we can ever go back to the way things were before New York.”

She nodded sadly and bowed her head, bringing her hands together, picking at the skin around her thumb. Clint moved to sit beside her and took her hand; she looked up at him, her eyes wide. His heart was pounding in his chest, he felt his pulse all over his body. _Take the shot, Clint. Now’s the time. Line it up, take the shot._

“But, Tasha, what if I told you that if you and I talk this thing out and got it right, it could be better than it ever was or either of us ever thought it could be?”

oOo

Natasha couldn’t move. She wan’t sure her mouth was closed. What could he possibly mean by that? Better than before? Surely he meant that if they cleared the air, their friendship could be closer than ever. Like the team thing. They’d be a better team than before. That’s all he’d meant.

Is that what she wanted? Did she want to have a wonderfully great friendship with him and always know there would never be more? Worse, always wondering if he really did trust her, or fi he just wanted to be friends to put their team back together for the Avengers? 

She owed it to him and to herself to find out. 

“What are you talking about, Clint?”

He smiled at her, and she could feel his heartbeat in his hands. His pupils were dilated. Whatever he was telling her, he was being honest about.

“I think you and I want the same thing, Nat.”

oOo

Clint fought back a smile as he watched her think. He knew this woman better than he knew himself, especially in the last two years, and he knew he was watching a struggle. When she asked him what he meant, he didn’t bother hiding his relief, and blurted out the line about wanting the same thing before he really thought about it. She looked even more skeptical at that, but her slight little head tilt just caused the light to catch the arrow and he felt sure. _This is your shot, Barton._

“Natasha, I think the first thing we need to do is agree to be completely honest with each other. Even if it’s scary or painful. This is going to hurt both of us and I think we’re both scared, but can we agree to be honest? Really honest?”

“Will you trust what I say?”

“Tasha, sweetheart, I always have, and that’s the truth. But we’ll get to that incident in a few minutes. Will you be honest and let me be honest with you? Please?”

She looked down at their hands, he still hadn’t let go. After a long while she said; “Okay. But I feel like this may not solve everything the way you think. I may not be able to give you what you want.”

“Fair enough. But we’ll see.” He let go of her hand, sliding back to the opposite end of the couch. She adjusted herself so that she was facing him, still curled into something of a protective little ball. “Okay, let’s get to work saving us.” Natasha gave him a ghost of a smile.

“The very first thing I want to say is that I’m so incredibly sorry, Nat. Just so sorry -“

“Stop right there.” She held up a hand, her voice firm. “I meant what I said. You don’t need to apologize. You only opened my eyes to things that were happening.”

“I hurt you.”

“Yes.”

“You deserve an apology for that.”

“Fine. You’ve apologized. I accept it. Move on.”

“No, I don’t accept that.”

“Is this going to be hours of self-flagellation for you? Because I’m not interested in watching you beat yourself over some things that can’t be helped and actually worked to my good.”

“That’s almost offensive, Natasha.”

“Why? Are you that determined to abuse yourself over this?”

“I’ve been beating myself up over you since New York. And I’ve needed you Nat, God I’ve needed you, but you haven't been around. I’ve understood why and I’ve deserved it, but I would have killed anyone in my path for five minutes with you. Being kept away from you and knowing that I had driven you away because of things Hydra had forced me to say - I’ve been living in hell, Tasha. I was guilty of something I hadn’t done of my own free will, and the punishment was the worst possible thing they could do to me. They forced me to hurt the one person in this world that I love and drive her away, leaving me alone for them to experiment on with nothing but the memory of what I’d said and the look on your face when I said it. So yeah, if I want to grovel a bit and beg you to forgive me, I’ve spent months torturing myself with your pain, you can indulge me, dammit.”

Natasha’s eyes were wide and she was perfectly still. Clint plowed on. “They made me say all of that to you in the cell that day. All of it. It was like….like I was hiding in the back of my mind while someone else took the controls. I knew the things I was saying were the exact things that would lay you low, so that’s what they made me say. It wrecked you, it wrecked us. It wrecked one of the only two things I care about. And then I had to look at what I’d done. _But I didn't want to say or do any of those things._ You have to understand that. Hydra took over where Loki left off. They made me say the worst possible things to you, the things that would tear you down.”

“‘ _I’ll make Barton kill you; slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you’re afraid of.’”_

“What?”

“It’s how Loki threatened me with you. He said he was going to have you kill me in the ways I most feared.”

Clint’s jaw clenched. “He did have those plans. It's why I didn’t want to be around you much after New York. I had to make sure the bastard was gone. I was so scared to hurt you, Natasha.” Natasha didn't say anything for a while, she seemed intensely interested in her knee. He continued - “And I can't escape from what I’ve done, all I can do is try to make it right and plead with you to forgive me. Steve hates my guts, and I don't blame him. He says I destroyed you.”

She looked up sharply. “You didn’t -“ she began angrily.

He held up a hand, “This destroyed both of us in a way, Nat. It tore us apart. It broke us up. That’s definitely had an emotional impact on me, and according to Steve, it had an impact on you, too.” She looked back down at her knee. “I’ll never be the same man again, but I think I’ll be a better man. My priorities have changed now. I created all this wreckage-“

“No, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t?”

“You didn’t. Loki did, then Hydra finished it. They used you as a tool for their destructive plans. You are innocent in all of this, Clint. Had you been in a different part of the building in New Mexico, none of this would have happened, and who knows where we’d be? Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you believe what you said to me in your cell.”

Clint inhaled deeply through his nose and leaned his head back for a moment. “I believe that when I took you in there was innocent blood on your hands and those people would have been avenged with your death. Yes. What I didn't say - what my mind at that time wouldn’t let me say - is that you were as brainwashed when you did that as I was when Hydra had me. You were used. You can’t be held accountable for what someone else made you do. If I can't, you can’t. What’s more, you’ve cancelled all of that out with all of the things you’ve done since then - of your own free will. For heaven’s sake, Nat, you’ve saved the world twice.”

Natasha ducked her head again, but not before he saw the tears shining there. Clint scooted forward and tipped her chin up so she was looking at him. 

“What I do not believe - what has never even been slightly true - is that you are a burden. You're not an albatross dragging me down, Tasha. Good Lord, you’ve kept me afloat more times than I can count. You’ve saved my life more times than I probably know. I know you talked Fury out of his order to kill me after you saw me that day.” She nodded. “I’m not shackled to you, Nat. And even if I am, well,” he grinned at her, “I’m not complaining.”

“Everything else you said was true.”

“What else was true?”

“About how no one else trusted me.”

“No It wasn’t. I’ve trusted you implicitly since very early in our relationship. That has never wavered.”

“Never?”

He looked her in the eyes, knowing she was reading his tells. “Never. Not once. Once I began trusting you, It was total and I never stopped.”

She looked away, blinking tears. “You weren't’ the only one you talked about, though.”

“You mean SHIELD?”

“Yeah.”  

"SHIELD turned out to be Hydra, Nat.”

“Fury’s not Hydra.”

Clint cocked his head to the side. “Fury doesn’t trust you? I know otherwise.”

“He didn’t tell me he wasn’t dead initially.”

“Who did he tell?”  

“Hill.”

“And?”

“Hill brought in some medical agents, then a couple of others. She picked up Steve, Sam, and I a couple of days later.”

Clint let out a short laugh. “Tasha, don’t you see? Nick was trusting you with more than he was trusting Maria. She was babysitting; you were out saving the world. And he brought you in quickly, he didn’t keep you shut out long.” Her tears fell and he pulled her in close, finally breaking her out of the ball she’d stayed curled in for so long as she leaned into him. “Natasha, he trusted you more than you realize. Try not to put so much into not being told every detail about that the minute it happened. You had bigger fish. You saved the world. Again.”

He felt her tears wetting his shoulder as he rubbed her back softly.

“But what about Steve?” she sniffled.

“What about Steve?”  

"It turned out that he didn’t trust me either.”

“Fuck Steve.”

“Clint.”

He grumped. “Fine, I’ll be nice. I don’t think he _really_ didn’t trust you. I think Steve is lost a lot of the time and doesn’t know who or what to believe. He trusted you enough to believe that I was fine to fly a quinjet to New York right after I’d blown up the helicarrier, right? He’s trusted you all along. I think he just needed reassurance every now and then.” Clint’s jaw flexed involuntarily. “He’s certainly very protective of you.”

“I’ve heard.”

“We almost came to blows.”

“I heard that, too.”

“What else did you hear?”

“That you asked if he and I had something going on.”

Clint was glad her head was still on his shoulder, because he felt his face get hot - an uncharacteristic reaction for him. “Well, he got so defensive when i wanted to come see you…I just wondered.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me? Or do you trust his answer?”

Clint’s heart rate shot up, but he kept his voice calm. “Isn’t honesty kind of his thing? Do you have a different answer? He told me you guys were just friends, but…”

“He didn’t lie. There was nothing between us, ever. We kissed once as a cover on the run, it was nothing.”

Nothing else was said for a while, Natasha just laid silently against Clint while he tried to control his automatic nervous system. He rubbed her shoulder softly, concentrating on thinking of anything rather than Captain America kissing Natasha. 

She broke into his thoughts, speaking quietly. “Know what else I heard?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard you say you love me.” 

Clint’s hand froze on her shoulder and all of his work to calm his pulse and respirations was ruined. “When did I say that?”

Natasha sat up to look at him. Her face was serious, studying his. She was in interrogation mode and he let his eyes flick to her necklace for quick reassurance. 

“When you talked about Hydra. You said that they did the worst possible thing to you, they took away the one person you loved and kept her away. When Steve and I possibly dating was mentioned, your physical tells went off the charts. They calmed down for just a second until I told you we kissed, then they went even higher than before. And,” she looked uncomfortable for a moment then recovered quickly, “You’ve touched me more often and more intimately in the last eighteen hours than you ever have. It’s in the way you look at me, too. These are not the touches of friends - even best friends. These are not the touches of partners who work together as spies and assassins. This is the way a man looks at and touches a woman, Clint. This is the way someone touches something they’re afraid to lose. These are the looks you give something you can’t live without. And you’re giving them to me.

“So I’m asking you, Clint Barton. Did I hear you wrong? Am I misinterpreting? I need you to tell me. I’ve got to know if I’m wrong.” Her voice took on a quality he’d never heard from her before. It was steely, but there was something else, too - a hint of a plea. “Did you say you love me, Clint?”

Clint looked at her. Natasha’s green eyes bored into his, demanding the truth. He knew that this was the moment, there was no going back. He was about to lay his heart out there for the Black Widow, for better of worse. May God have mercy on his soul, and may she have mercy on his heart.

“We promised to be honest no matter what, right? Even if it was painful or scary or whatever?” He sucked in a breath. “I’m going to do that, Tasha. I’m leaping here.”

“Just tell me, Clint.”

He whispered a little prayer then looked at her. She was leaning forward, the tendrils from her bun falling beside her cheek and lying on her bare shoulder. Her necklace was swaying ever so slightly in the hollow of her throat, winking at him when it caught the light. Her eyes glinted like emeralds as they searched his intently, her brows knitted, the worry line appearing between them. Her lips were parted and he whispered another tiny prayer that he’d be able to kiss them soon.

Clint gave a small smile. “Yes, Tasha, I love you. I’ve loved you for years.”

oOo

Natasha rocked back against the cushions of the couch, stunned. She felt limp, boneless. She had thought she knew what he was getting at but couldn’t believe it. As he got more obvious, she couldn’t really deny it. Hearing it, however…she just wasn’t prepared for it.

A thousand thoughts raced through her head at once, between each one the phrase “he loves me” butted in. _I can’t believe it. He loves me. His tells were all clear, he wasn’t lying. He loves me. All these years, I’ve been wrong. He loves me. Oh, God, what do I do now? He loves me. He’s telling the truth. He loves me. Why now and not then? He loves me._

He broke into her thoughts. “Are you okay?” His lip was quirked the tiniest bit and he leaned forward as if to close the space she had vacated. “You need a while, or do you wanna talk about it?”

She looked up at him. “Clint, I…I’m not even sure. I didn’t really expect that.”

His lip turned up again. “Well, we said we’d be honest.”

“Yes.”

“So, you asked a direct question. I gave a direct answer. I love you. And _damn_ , I’ve waited a long time to tell you that.”

“How long?”

“Since Budapest.”

“You’re lying.”

“Look at me. You know I’m not. I realized I loved you in Budapest.”

Natasha brought her hands up to her face, rubbing her eyes then brushing her hair back from her face. “That was almost five years ago, Clint.”

“I know. I’m sure I’d felt it longer, it just hit me that night.”

Natasha rubbed her hand across her forehead and closed her eyes. “I don’t even know what to say…”

“Well, first, take what I just said out of the equation for a little while.”

“I don't know if I can, Clint. That’s pretty huge.”

“I know. But try for me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I know what I said last night, and I’m a huge asshole for even asking. But…do you think there will ever be a time that you can forgive me? Or trust me again?”

“You’re forgiven. As far as trusting you,” she rubbed her face and shook her head. “I trust _you_. It’ll just be a matter of convincing myself that Loki and Hydra aren’t lingering around up there. In that respect, no, I can’t trust you yet.”

“Fair enough. That’s more than I could have ever asked for. But I’m asking anyway, because I’m a greedy bastard. Will you give me a chance to show you I’m free and clear?”

She looked at him closely. His blue eyes were the cobalt they always were when he was concerned about something. The lines around his eyes were crinkled, the worry etched in his brow.

“Yes.”

“Can I take you out tonight?”

“What?”

“I’d like to take you down to the river, eat at one of the cafes, maybe take a little walk around the Danube. I want to take you on a date, Tasha. Can I?”

She just sat looking at him, her expression blank. _He wants to take me on a date. He loves me. An honest-to-God date. What the hell is happening? Clint loves me, and all of the things I never thought I’d have are landing in my lap. Oh, God…_

Clint ducked his head, trying to catch her gaze. “You okay?”

“Huh? Yeah. I’m just…this is a lot.”

“You’re right. I’m gonna go and leave you to your thoughts, ok? You know how to find me, I’m not going anywhere. Thank you for breakfast, the coffee was great.”

He took her hand, kissing her knuckles quickly before standing and walking towards the door. As he turned into the foyer, Natasha called out, “Clint?”

He ducked back around the corner. “Yeah?”

“Pick me up at six.”

“You got it.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Portrait Of An Apology"  
> Jars of Clay
> 
> Look what I've done  
> This picture I've painted  
> It looks like my heart  
> Or what still remains
> 
> Convinced of the weight  
> Your interpretations  
> Are not what I see  
> I wish they could be
> 
> I remember it much redder  
> I remember it much brighter
> 
> Can you stay for a while  
> Try to imagine this  
> Could you be for a while  
> I can't remember it  
> Could you fall for a while  
> I can't escape from this
> 
> I'll try to explain  
> The way that the frame  
> Doesn't quite fit the image  
> Or surround the edge
> 
> It stands on display  
> What do you see?  
> Behold all the new grey  
> What's become of the old me
> 
> I remember it much redder  
> I remember it much brighter
> 
> Calling, crying, ashamed of what I am not  
> Really failing, falling into this cage and I can't escape  
> I can't escape


End file.
